Illusions
by Scylla's revenge
Summary: Half-dwarves? Dragons? Crazy plot twists and actual character development? Witty banter? Maybe even unexpected romantic tension? All this and more can be found with Corliss, a thief and spy, whose adventure begins when her greatest mission goes horribly, horribly wrong.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

Corliss set her bounty down by her feet, her heart pounding against her ribs with a mixture of exhaustion and fear. Kneeling in the shadows of the great stone perimeter of the castle, she adjusted her worn leather gloves, making sure they covered all of her hands and wrists. She knew the egg couldn't hatch for her, but her orders were explicit: she _must_ not let it touch her skin.

Scooping up the egg again, Corliss rearranged it in her leather satchel and took a deep breath. She began to whisper a spell into the evening air, reciting the words by heart: "Frethya eka frá ven." As the magic began to take hold, the girl looked down at her slender feet and watched them gradually disappear, followed by her legs, then torso, the plain gray servant's uniform melting into the dim shadows of the twilight.

Once the invisibility spell was complete, she tore off into the night, running through the plan in her mind for the hundredth time as she went. Every aspect of her escape had been planned down to the smallest of details, but it couldn't hurt to think through it again. Gods willing, nothing would surprise her tonight.

Well, nothing _else, _that is. The color of the egg she had stolen had certainly given her pause. She couldn't understand it! All of Nasuada's sources had spoken of a _green _egg remaining in Galbatorix's possession. Green, not a deep, metallic copper! Her sources must have simply been misinformed of the details. After all, it didn't matter what color the damned thing was, she reminded herself. Hopefully… _hopefully_ there were no other details they had gotten wrong.

In what little spare time she had had as a scullery maid in the castle kitchens, Corliss had poured endlessly over a map of the city given to her by the Varden. She had traced every manor, shop, and alley, committing them all to memory. She pictured it clearly in her mind as she ran: the city of Uru'baen was organized in a great circle, with the king's castle in the center on a high hill. Spreading outward were the mansions and vast gardens of the nobility, then the middle class homes and merchants' shops, which grew shabbier and more cluttered as they spread outward. Surrounding the city was a great wall, made of colossal blocks of grey stone; they were stacked oppressively in a ring around the city, with only four gates, one facing north, one south, one east, and one west.

It was the northern gate that Corliss ran to now. She deemed it the least likely to draw suspicion, since the majority of the fields and farmhouses lay to the north of the city, which would be more difficult to pass through unnoticed once she had made it past the wall. However, that was a small price to pay if the guards were drawn to the eastern and southern gates, which were a more obvious choice for a thief headed towards the Varden in the Beor Mountains. Corliss's real destination, though, lay to the north, in Du Weldenvarden, where her bounty would be kept safe and ferried through the elven cities to find it a Rider.

She dodged, invisible, between manors and opulent gardens, down wide, empty streets. King Galbatorix had issued a curfew in the city decades ago, and this late in the evening only a few stragglers remained outdoors, rushing towards their homes with their heads down. Corliss didn't dare imagine what punishment awaited those who didn't make it inside in time. She dashed past them all, her cloth shoes silent on the cobblestone streets. She had made it almost halfway to the wall, when an alarm sounded from behind her.

Horns shattered the silent evening air, and Corliss nearly jumped out of her skin in horror. So Galbatorix had learned that he had been robbed. _Barzul._ A moment later horns sounded _ahead_ of her as well, most likely from the guards prowling the city walls. Heart pounding, Corliss positively fled down the winding streets, her hands sweaty in their gloves._ Barzul, barzul, barzul!_

As she twisted her neck around to look for guards that might be pouring down the street at any moment, she tripped. Loudly. As she landed, the egg flew out of her satchel, becoming all too visible as it soared away. The copper orb bounced with horrible clangs down the street, clashing with the horns still echoing from every direction.

Corliss, having fallen spectacularly and skidded for several agonizing feet on the cobblestones, watched in horror. The egg finally rolled to a stop as the girl scrabbled to her feet and lunged for it, but too late: a group of five soldiers appeared at the south end of the street, eyes wide in surprise. Corliss didn't know if they had a magician among them that could sense her presence through an invisibility spell, but there was no way they could have missed the great shining copper egg, reflecting a ruddy golden light on the cobblestones all around it.

Perhaps the guards were taken aback at seeing their prize sitting in the middle of the street waiting for them. Perhaps they suspected a trap. In any case, they hesitated for a moment, and that was all Corliss needed to grab the egg and dive behind a shop corner. "_Copy me," _she breathed in the Ancient Language as the soldiers leapt towards her.

A dark-cloaked figure sprang up from under Corliss's feet, clutching a shining copper orb in its hands. It flew past the soldiers in the opposite direction, and the soldiers shouted in surprise and followed on its heels, aiming their spears expertly at its fleeing back.

Her face screwed up in concentration, Corliss remained kneeling behind the shop window, clutching the egg as tightly as she could in her gloved hands. She knew she couldn't keep up this illusion forever. The farther away the shadow-person got, the harder it was to control its movements. And besides, if the soldiers managed to hit it with a spear, they would no doubt realize something was up: most people don't keep running after a spear passes through them. But at least Corliss now knew none of them were magicians—or at least, none of them were skilled magicians—or they would have noticed the ruse.

Corliss mentally commanded the figure to continue running up the southward street, then continued on northward toward the wall, the egg stowed once again in her satchel. Her knees ached where she'd fallen, and she vaguely was aware that her gloves had torn and her hands were bleeding. She heard loud voices behind her, but couldn't tell how close they were. Her heartbeat had grown so loud it was impossible to think clearly. _Come on, you're almost there!_ She breathed to herself. _Just a bit farther…_

Finally the great wall loomed up over the low, ramshackle homes she was passing: a great gray barrier lined with sentries at the top and bottom, some holding lanterns, all holding spears. Many were likely magicians. Filled with panic despite herself, she forced herself to remember the plan. The plan! _Right…focus now,_ Corliss whispered to herself, and wove her way through the homes, looking for the right one.

Most of the homes here were more or less identical; they were one-storied and pressed up against one another, with small crowded yards and gardens facing the street. _Take the next left, now right, three blocks down, and fourth on the right...aha! _Corliss pumped an invisible fist in the air as she found the right house. It was shabby and cramped, like all the others, its only door an ill-fitting cloth curtain. Pushing through it, Corliss stepped inside and found it musty, stuffy, and mercifully empty, just according to plan. _  
_

Lifting the protective spell over the dirt floor, Corliss smiled as a dark, narrow gap appeared in the ground. It widened until it was large enough for a person to leap through: not spacious by any means, but enough. Not wasting another moment, Corliss leapt into the tunnel entrance, the illusion reappearing as soon as she was underground. The second she landed in the tunnel, all light and sound from the city above died out. Undaunted by the pitch dark and damp, still air pressing around her, the girl began to crawl forward.

The minutes ticked by as she crept northward on hands and knees. The tunnel was narrow and extremely low, making a straight path far below the wall. If it trailed too near the surface, the magicians' spells would detect her presence exiting the city, but the fools had not considered to extend the spell below the ground, as Corliss had discovered with delight long ago.

It was utterly silent in the tunnel. The only sound was the shuffling of Corliss's hands and feet, and the occasional muttered curse when a piece of dirt crumbled from the ceiling into her eyes. Corliss made herself breathe evenly, her satchel bumping against her side as she went. She had allowed the invisibility spell to die out in the tunnel, and now the wisps of blonde hair falling out of her braid and into her eyes were annoyingly visible.

She continued to crawl. And crawl. How long had it been? Hours, certainly. Had the sun come up yet? Barzul, she hoped not. She wanted to be well away from Uru'baen by daylight. She urged herself faster, her legs stiff and cramping. Just when she thought she might scream with impatience, she smacked face-first into the end of the tunnel. She scooted back a few feet, rubbing the dirt off her nose.

"Garjzla," Corliss whispered, her voice sounding unnaturally loud after crawling for so long. A sphere of orange light appeared in her open palm, and she held it out in front of her like a beacon, peering around in the dark tunnel. With a sign of relief, the girl saw that the roof of the tunnel had risen just enough for her to stand. Rising stiffly, she spotted something in the corner of the exit. _Aha! _There sat a small leather bag filled with extra provisions for the next leg of her journey, as planned. Gratefully, she stuffed it into her satchel.

Corliss breathed deeply and sat down in the dim light of the tunnel. Despite the urgency of her mission, she needed a moment to rest. After all, the plan was going perfectly, as it should, and besides, she had crawled for at least three miles in this cursed tunnel, and it looked as though she had evaded the guards and even the king's magicians perfectly. She smiled at the fierce joy of completing a mission, of defying the king.

Now that she was out of the city, Corliss remembered happily, she could remove the final spell she had placed on herself. There was no need to disguise herself as a human servant any longer; she planned to spend the rest of the journey invisible anyway, so there was no need for another spell on top of it. "Moi eka aptr unin halfr dvergr."_  
_

As the spell took effect, the girl's body began to change. Corliss winced in discomfort as her bones shifted and changed. Her frame grew stockier, and her legs, arms and torso shrank slightly, her clothes shifting in size as well. Her hair morphed from a wispy blonde braid to a much coarser, dark brown one. Her face widened, her nose flattened a bit, and freckles sprang up on her arms and the bridge of her nose.

Corliss sighed in relief. It was so nice to be herself again! She had hated that disguise, as necessary as it had been: for almost two months now she had worn the disguise of one of the castle's servants, a human scullery maid named Oliva, and _barzul, _it had gotten uncomfortable. She wiggled her fourteen toes happily, looking at her shoes, magically expanded back to their normal size. No wonder she had tripped back in the city, trying to run with tiny human feet like hers had been!

The half dwarf took a look at herself critically, and sighed. Her pants were ripped and muddy from crawling all that way in the tunnel, and her knees were scabbed and sore, but it was nothing she couldn't live with. There was dirt in her braided hair and dirt coating her clothes, but that wasn't exactly a priority either. Shuddering from weariness, Corliss stuffed her gloved hands in her pockets and hunched over her satchel, trying to keep warm. She didn't want to start moving again just yet…her muscles _ached_, and she had made such good distance already…

Her satchel twitched.

Corliss jolted upright, startled out of her wits, and threw the bag down. Had a mouse crawled in there or something? She lifted the leather flap and looked inside cautiously, feeling an odd sort of shaking again as she did so. What was…_no_.

That was impossible. It couldn't be...not for a half-dwarf. _Not for **me.**_

But even as she watched in disbelief, the strange copper egg twitched violently and rolled out of the satchel. The eggshell, glowing dimly in the orange light Corliss had made, had sprouted a lightning-shaped crack down its side. As though in slow motion, it shattered at the girl's feet. Her blood froze in her veins, but whether from horror or excitement she didn't know.

At her feet sat a dragon.

* * *

_Frethya eka frá ven: Hide me from sight._

_Barzul: the dwarvish equivalent of "damn it," basically. At least that's how I'm interpreting it._

_Garjzla: light_

_Moi eka aptr unin halfr dvergr: _Change me back into a half-dwarf.__

So this story has been in the works for a long time, and I've made a ton of changes to it. I've had Corliss in my head for so long now, and she's undergone a ton of changes too. She started out very different (and entirely human) in _Wandering Path and Bolt of Lightning, _my first failed story that was probably more than a little cliche. So let me know what you think, and I'll have the next chapter out soon! Also if you're thinking it starts out a bit cliched, well, I kind of agree, but it gets much less so in future chapters. Hopefully. :)


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Corliss's brain struggled to form thoughts. All it could do was stare at the creature in front of her, repeating the same thing over and over without comprehension:

The egg had hatched.

The egg had hatched _for her._

This baby dragon had _hatched for her_, not _five miles_ outside of the walls of Uru'baen, in a crude, flimsy tunnel, protected by weak spells that most of the king's magicians could likely penetrate, and…and…Corliss forced herself to breathe. _Stay calm. Stay calm above all else._ Her breathing slowly returned to normal as she stared at the dragon, but her heart still was pounding so hard she thought it might break her ribcage.

"Oh, _Guntera below_, how did this happen?" the girl asked hoarsely, studying the creature sitting in front of her.

It was a small, harmless-looking thing really, no bigger than a large jackrabbit. The dragon was staring at her curiously with wide copper eyes, its long neck stretched upward and ending in a flat, triangular head and pointed snout. Its wings were half-unfolded, almost golden in color, and still a bit crumpled-looking from being inside its egg. Other than its swishing tail, it was completely motionless.

The dragon's smooth, metallic copper scales made it look more like a statue of a dragon than a living one, Corliss thought, and she wondered if its scales felt like metal as well. Impulsively she reached out and brushed the dragon's spiny head with her hand.

Her arm jerked back like lightning as the skin on her palm seared with pain. "_Barzul_!" she swore as she cradled her right hand to her stomach and glared at the dragon. It sneezed, then looked up at her again, blinking owlishly. "_What did you do that for_?" Corliss exclaimed, gritting her teeth with pain, though something told her that it wasn't the baby dragon's fault.

When she dared to look at her right hand again, she was horrified to see a huge pearly scar there, one that she had only ever read about. It was the same mark that was said to rest on the palm of Eragon Shadeslayer: the _gedwey ignasia_. She ran her left thumb across it gingerly, a knot of dread forming in her stomach. She knew what this meant.

This little copper dragon had chosen her to be its Rider.

"What in _sweet Guntera's_ _name_ did you pick me for?" asked Corliss, sinking to the tunnel floor, her limbs feeling like lead. She stretched her legs out with effort and looked around the cave. The sun had still not risen yet; she could stay in this cave safely for a bit longer before moving on. After all, her circumstances _had _changed somewhat, she thought distantly.

The dragon walked over to her, like a toddler taking its first steps, and plopped down across her knees. Corliss flinched, but the dragon's scales didn't burn her again. And she had been right; its scales did feel like metal, but warm, as though heated in front of a roaring fire.

"_Well_?" Corliss insisted, gingerly touching the spikes along its back. "Why me? You ought to know about the dragons' pact with the riders. It's just for elves and humans, not half-dwarves like me—" The dragon snapped at her fingers. "Hey!" the girl exclaimed. It nipped at her hand again, then abruptly crawled off of her legs in a tangle of limbs and wings. It stumbled over to her satchel a few feet away, where it stuck its long neck in and began rooting around.

"Hey, _barzul, _no, you'd better not eat my—"

The baby dragon turned back toward Corliss, its little mouth full of strips of dried meat.

"Damn you, that jerky was supposed to last me for…for…" The girl trailed off, pressing her hand to her forehead in confusion. Her head hurt. But not her head, really, her _mind_ hurt…almost as though someone was trying to break down her mental walls and read her thoughts. Her eyes fell suspiciously on the dragon, which was still happily gulping down her meat rations. Strange…she could definitely feel a sense of joy, of contentment, the sort one gets after eating a meal after a long fast…and that feeling wasn't coming from within her, but from—

Corliss's heart skipped a beat. _Uh...dragon? _She thought tentatively.

_Corliss. _

Oh, Guntera, the dragon was in her mind! _…You ate all of my jerky, _was the only thing she could think to say.

_Jerky, _the small voice in her mind repeated.

_Yes. And now it's all gone. _Corliss pulled the dragon out of her satchel and emptied its contents onto the cave floor, looking for something the dragon hadn't gotten to yet.

_Corliss._

_One minute. _She found some dried fruit and mushrooms the dragon clearly hadn't been interested in, and ate those hurriedly.

_Minute, _the dragon repeated, then yawned.

"You learn words quickly," Corliss observed out loud, rearranging her goods in the satchel. "But we're going to have to move on now. The sun's almost up. Resting will have to wait." And so would wondering how the egg had hatched for her, Corliss decided. Perhaps the elves would be able to tell her when they reached Du Weldenvarden? _If _they reached it, that is, Corliss thought with dread.

_Sun?_

"Yes, that's right, you nuisance. Come on now," she replied, scooping up the little creature and positioning it on top of her satchel. Before hoisting herself up out of the tunnel entrance, she stopped and performed her standard protective spells: one for invisibility and one to erase her footsteps behind her. She paused to think of the right words, then cast a third spell as well.

"There. Now you should be invisible to everyone but me." The dragon scrabbled up her arm to sit on her shoulder, wide copper eyes staring up at the tunnel's exit. "Just stay with me and stay quiet, and maybe we'll have a chance_." As much as a snowball's chance in Morgothal's pocket_, Corliss added privately, before remembering that the dragon could hear her thoughts. _Oops_.

As the girl stood up in the open air, Corliss's mind was nearly overwhelmed with the dragon's excitement at its first view of the sky. The sun was just coming up in the distance, turning the sky into a haze of pink and copper. The dragon nudged her excitedly, its long snout jabbing insistently at her neck. _Sun-dragon,_ it thought happily. _Sun-dragon-me, Corliss. _

_I…don't understand._

_Sun-dragon! _

_The sun isn't a dragon. I…well, it _is_ copper colored like you right now. It's called a sunrise. _

The dragon squeaked in surprise as a flock of birds flew overhead, black specks in the fiery sky. _Dragon!_

_No, not dragons. Those are just birds. But when you're older, you'll be able to fly like them._

_Fly! Fly, sunrise, sun-dragon fly! Sunrise, sunrise, birds, older-copper-dragon-sun, minute, dragon, sunrise, Corliss! _

Corliss felt the dragon's excitement again at reciting its new vocabulary. It continued to babble at her and she began to laugh despite herself. She felt the warmth of the dragon's happiness flood their mental connection, and she let her worries ebb away, at least for the moment.

She would get them safely out of here and into Du Weldenvarden, Corliss insisted to herself. She mentally reviewed the path she had to take; she could still make it, even if she now carried a dragon instead of an egg. Even if nothing had gone according to plan. Even if her entire future had now changed. She clenched her fist in determination. She would succeed.

She had to.

* * *

Guntera: the king of the dwarvish gods

Morgothal: the dwarvish god of fire

Please let me know what you think of the story so far! Especially in regards to the dragon hatchling; it was kind of difficult to write, but I really enjoyed it and wanted it to be distinctly different from the egg-hatching scene in _Eragon._

Also, my normal updates won't be nearly this quick, and my chapters won't be quite this short. I just really wanted Corliss and her dragon to have their first chapter!


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

As they walked—or rather, as Corliss walked and the dragon crawled up and down her back and from one shoulder to the other like a squirrel in a tree—Corliss's worries began to return. She had seen Galbatorix's men several times since she had left the cave that morning, and although most of them were far off in the distance, they were still uncomfortably close.

_See bad men?_ asked the dragon, now doing its best to perch on top of Corliss's head.

_Yes. But they're not too close yet. _Corliss pushed the dragon's tail out of her eyes and tucked it behind her ear, picking up her pace to a steady jog. _I'm worried that they'll be able to detect my invisibility spells from a distance, if they have a powerful enough magician with them._

Corliss could sense the dragon struggling to put words together. It had already learned quite a few in the last few hours, alternating between sleeping in the girl's satchel and practicing her vocabulary while climbing up and down Corliss's limbs, making puncture marks in her clothes with its claws and tangling its spiny tail in her hair. Finally it found the proper words. _Why no…not…fly…away? In sky? Like bird?_

Corliss snorted. _I wish I could fly away, but I don't have wings, and you're too small to fly me anywhere for a long while. We'll have to do with walking for now. _It had been over two days since she'd gotten any sleep, but Corliss was used to long hours and strenuous physical exertion in her line of work. Her heightened endurance, inherited from her dwarf father, certainly didn't hurt either.

_Want to fly now. _The dragon paused to think of its words again. _Walk slow._

_Well, there's a village a few days north of here. Hopefully I can buy a horse without arousing suspicion. Riding a horse won't be like flying, but it'll be faster._

_Want to__** fly**__, Corliss, _insisted the dragon, and Corliss felt the creature's fierce longing in her mind. The dragon had tried to fly several times that day as Corliss walked or jogged along, and had merely tumbled off of the girl's shoulder and into the tall dead grass each time.

Corliss felt the dragon getting ready to spring off of her shoulder yet again. _Why don't you take a break from flight practice?_ The dragon ignored her, tensing its muscles and twitching its tail like a cat about to pounce. _I know,_ the girl said as a thought came to her. _Let's think of a name for you. I can't keep calling you "dragon."_

_But name…not Dragon? _the dragon replied, tilting its head in confusion.

_No, of course it's not! You can't be named Dragon._

_Oh_. The dragon hung its head sadly, then leapt back up a moment later. _Then…then name Corliss!_

_What?_ the girl sputtered._ That's my name, you can't have it!_

The dragon pouted a bit, and they both fell silent, thinking. Corliss struggled to remember the names of the dragons she had read about in the great dwarven library on her travels to Durgrimst Ebardac. _Let's see…I think most dragons were given Elvish names. _Corliss recalled with a grimace. _Even the human riders named their dragons in the ancient language. Ugh, that won't do._

_Can…can't name…be Corliss? _The dragon asked again, pausing to think of the right words.

_No! For Helzvog's sake, that's __**my **__name. But…_ Another thought occurred to Corliss. _You do want a girl's name, then? Are you a female? Or a male?_

_Female? Male?_

_Oh, you know…_Corliss struggled to explain to the dragon as she tromped through the tall grass, her footprints magically erasing themselves behind her. _For instance…I'm a female, a woman. They're the ones that…give birth to new babies, and, well…_this was harder to explain than she'd thought. _And men are…ugh, I don't know if it's the same for dragons. But dwarf men, and human men, I suppose, are bigger by a bit, and have beards and deeper voices…_Corliss projected images of men and women to the dragon, hoping that would help. What did those books say about male and female dragons? She couldn't remember. Were females supposed to be bigger? She had a feeling they were...

_Males have…have beard. Want beard!_

_Well, you're a dragon. You won't get one of those._

_…Oh. _Corliss sensed disappointment emanating from their mental link. _Then…female. Want be female. Females…more beautiful. Males not beautiful._

_Good-looking men are called handsome, not beautiful, _Corliss corrected, unsure of what else to say.

_…I am…not male. Not handsome male. Not ugly female. __**Beautiful**__ female. Female like you._

_You're sure?_

_Yes! _The dragon insisted, more certainly now. _Beautiful female! Beautiful female!_

Well, she knew dragons weren't supposed to be modest, Corliss supposed.

_But…still want beard._

Corliss snorted with laughter. A dragon with a beard? Maybe this strange creature was meant to hatch for a half-dwarf after all!

* * *

Another short chapter! I'll have another out pretty soon though. Please let me know what you think of this story! I'm really enjoying writing the parts with the dragon hatchling, and I'm hoping I'm doing it justice. I wasn't a huge fan of how it was all done in the books, so let me know if the changes I'm making are for the better! :)


	4. Chapter 4

Quick note: This story's name sucks. I know it, y'all know it, so if you have any suggestions for a better, more interesting title than "Illusions" please let me know in a review or message!

And so without further ado, here's the next chapter.

* * *

Chapter 4

"Setta," Corliss repeated out loud, testing the name in the evening air.

_Setta, _the dragon insisted, shifting restlessly on the girl's shoulder. _Setta, Setta, Setta._

_What does it mean? _Corliss asked, confused.

_Me, _the dragon answered impatiently. _Beautiful-female-dragon Setta._

_Oh, _was all Corliss could think to say in reply.

For most of the afternoon and evening they had been discussing names for her new hatchling. They had had no close run-ins yet with any of the king's magicians or soldiers, and while Corliss was relieved at this, their absence had begun to feel troubling. She had expected soldiers to be right on her trail as it was, and that wasn't even accounting for the lost time she had taken when her dragon had hatched!

But no, instead their day had been quite peaceful, only a few glimpses of enemy soldiers to be seen, and those relatively far off in the hills to the southwest. So, praying to Guntera that their luck would hold out, Corliss and the hatchling had been discussing names, taking a break every few hours for rest and food.

Corliss wasn't too enthusiastic about naming her dragon after an existing one, and thankfully her dragon hadn't cared for any of their names. But just in case, Corliss had reluctantly offered up Jura, Agaravel, Ophelia, Miremel, and several other (frankly _Elvish _sounding) names from vaguely-remembered history books, but all had been rejected brutally. _Thank goodness, _Corliss had thought to herself. '_Ophelia?' Ugh. _

Once those names were dismissed, the dragon had begun to suggest her own, to Corliss's surprise. Some of them were based on words she had learned from her Rider, and others, like her new favorite, "Setta," were a complete mystery to Corliss.

Sensing her confusion, the dragon explained. _Setta is name for…for…sound of dragon wing in sky like bird, and wind on…dragon scales, and sharp teeth in…in—_

_Uh…jaws? _supplied Corliss, mystified, seeing the dragon's mental image.

_Yes, sharp teeth in jaws with fire. Name for strong-beautiful-female-dragon Setta!_

Corliss didn't think dragon's wingbeats or wind or fire breath would sound much like "Setta," but nonetheless, the dragon's thought process fascinated her. She wasn't even sure she had taught the dragon the word "fire" yet. Did dragons have some sort of collective memory, inherited from their ancestors, where she might know the word? Or had Corliss merely thought the word at some point and her dragon picked it up?

_It doesn't sound much like any other dragon name I've heard. But that's a good thing, _Corliss told the dragon. _I mean, compared to those frilly Elvish names, Setta is quite nice. Though it sounds downright musical compared to most Dwarfish names._

_Your name Dwarfish? _

_No, Corliss is a human name. My mother insisted on a human name for me, but she didn't realize how much it would alienate me from the high priests of Durgrimst Quan. They're sticklers for tradition, after all. _A thought came to Corliss, making her laugh bitterly. _ I wonder what they'd make of you!_

Before her dragon could reply, a shadow fell over them both, ever so briefly. Corliss stopped dead in her tracks, eyes widening with fear, searching the skies, until she saw—

_Dragon! Big red-fire-sun dragon! _Her dragon chirped from her shoulder. She began to flap her wings excitedly.

_Get down, Setta! _Corliss exclaimed in a panic, dragging the hatchling down into the tall grass and laying low. _Guntera, let our invisibility spells hold!_

Thorn and his Rider flew so high above them that the red dragon appeared no larger than an eagle in the sky, yet Corliss could feel their presence as though a shadow was pressing down upon her from all sides. Her hatchling, feeling Corliss's panic, lay low and quiet next to her Rider. _Can't see us, _the dragon thought.

_But they can sense us, _Corliss replied. _All they have to do is cast a simple spell, and they'll detect us and…_she didn't want to finish the thought.

And yet the seconds dragged by in the tall grass, stretching into minute after agonizing minute. The red dragon had all but disappeared in the distance, and still nothing happened. _Why have they not found us? _Corliss exclaimed in her mind, still shaking with fear. _It should be so easy for them: one simple spell to locate their precious egg, and then they would be on us like lightning! _She rose shakily to her feet, peering around uneasily.

Suddenly she felt an odd sensation coming from her mental link with her dragon. Was that…amusement? _What is it? _she snapped, still shaken from the sight of the red dragon.

Her dragon's tail began to shake back and forth, and a gurgle escaped from her throat.

"_What _is it, Setta?" Corliss hissed out loud. "This isn't time for—"

_Egg, _the dragon replied, before succumbing to her gurgling laughs again.

"Egg? What do you…-" Corliss stared at the little copper dragon for a moment, before realization hit her.

"Egg!" she gasped, then doubled over with laughter, falling back into the tall grass helplessly. Oh, this was brilliant! This was more than she could ever have hoped for!

They were looking for an egg, not a dragon! None of their spells were seeking out a living, breathing _dragon! _After all, what were the odds an egg would hatch for the first and only person to touch it after it was stolen?

As her laughter died away, Corliss turned to her little copper dragon. She embraced the hatchling tightly, ignoring the many spikes on its neck and back, and offered a fervent prayer of thanks to Helzvog for her good fortune. _Setta, we would have been captured if you hadn't hatched for me when you did. _

_Setta, _repeated the dragon, with a hint of pride. _Setta, Setta, Setta._

_It's a good name, _Corliss agreed. She took a long breath and stared up at the cloudless sky, suddenly imagining what her dragon would look like, soaring like Thorn through that vast expanse of blue.

_Corliss, _the dragon thought contentedly.

_Setta._

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Please let me know what you think of this chapter! I wanted my naming chapter to be very different from Eragon's and Saphira's, and I really like the idea of the dragon making her own name. I'm pretty sure Paolini said that Thorn chose his own name as well. It just seems more...dragon-ish.

And yes, I know Setta doesn't sound very much like other dragon names in the series. It's not really supposed to. She's a pretty odd dragon, as you'll see more clearly later. But still, let me know what you think of it! Reviews are beautiful things :)

And don't worry, more action is coming up soon!


	5. Chapter 5

Finally another update! Thanks for being patient with me, to anyone who is still reading this story. Things are going to start picking up after this chapter and it's getting harder to write, not to mention I have actual real world stuff to work on, unfortunately. But don't worry, the next chapter is already written and will be up in a few days!

Also, thanks to Restrained. Freedom and Payprklip for your reviews! Feedback is much appreciated :)

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Chapter 5

_Corliss had never liked heights, but it didn't bother her now. Setta's wings beat strongly against the air currents as they wove between clouds, over mountains, forests, into uncharted territory, past the edges of even the most complete maps. She gripped at the spikes on Setta's back to steady herself as the dragon went into a steep dive. The wind whipped at Corliss's curly hair, snatching the breath from her lungs and stinging her eyes, but she had never felt so alive in her life…_

The girl rolled over in her sleep, clutching at her satchel tightly.

_Suddenly the mountains below her were full of fire. Setta pulled out of her dive quickly, but it was too late. Corliss's vision dissolved into flashes of flames, blood, metal wings, screams of pain, and now something spiky was poking at her face-_

Corliss awoke with a start, gasping for breath, only to see Setta perched squarely on her chest, nudging her face with her pointed snout.

_You slept for a long time._

"Ugh," she muttered drowsily, sitting up reluctantly and pushing the dragon off of her.

Setta sat up in the grass, staring at her impatiently. _Another sunrise today! _She exclaimed to her Rider, pointing with her snout at the pink-and-gold haze in the sky.

"Yes, well, there's a sunrise every day," Corliss responded grumpily, rubbing her eyes and rummaging through her satchel for some breakfast.

_Every day? _Setta's eyes shone with excitement, making Corliss snort with laughter. _You slept a long time. More than me. I caught food and watched sunrise already._

"What food?" asked Corliss curiously.

_Tiny food. _Setta gestured to a couple of dead mice, a rabbit and a half-eaten grass snake a few feet away. _Food couldn't see me. Too easy. _The dragon turned and began to finish her meal.

"Well, at least the invisibility spells are still working," Corliss said, standing up stiffly and stretching. She looked down at Setta and blinked in surprise. _Guntera, look how much you've grown!_

Setta twitched her now much longer tail smugly. _Yes. _She had almost doubled in size, Corliss realized, her neck and tail now thicker and longer, the spines running down her back much more dangerous-looking than before.

_If this keeps up I won't be able to fit you in my satchel tomorrow, _she said worriedly.

_But I can fight soon. Teeth sharper, scales harder, tail longer. Can fly soon too._

_I hope so._

_I dreamed I was flying last night, _Setta said, as Corliss picked her up (now with some effort) and set her on her shoulder.

_I dreamed it too. I wonder if dragons and Riders always share dreams. _Corliss asked, thinking back to her dream. Then she realized something. _Wait…why did you have purple scales in our dream? _Corliss exclaimed.

Setta paused to think. _I don't know._

_And what is…Guntera, you dreamed you had a beard?!_

_It was most beautiful, _the dragon said wistfully.

Corliss snorted with laughter as she scaled the next grassy hill. _You're a very strange dragon._

_All dragons are strange. Yes?_

_I suppose so. I don't really know, _Corliss answered. _I've only ever met one other dragon, Saphira, and she didn't seem to think much of me. I remember she said I was 'strange and stumpy for a two-legs.' _She scowled blackly at the memory. _But I left for Uru'baen a few days after they got to the Varden. I didn't get the chance to speak to her much._

_Not many dragons left, _Setta said. It wasn't a question.

Corliss frowned, kicking at a stone as she passed it. Not for the first time, she wondered if dragons somehow had a collective memory or something. _You're right. There used to be many. Now there are only four, now that you've hatched. _She explained as best she could about Saphira and Eragon, about Thorn and Murtagh, and the mad king's dragon, Shruikan.

_Have you seen Shruikan? _asked Setta curiously.

_No. No one has seen him in decades. I didn't see him at the castle, either, though he must be in there somewhere. But I __**have**_ _seen the king a few times. _She sent Setta a mental image of the man, sitting at the head of a small council meeting. He was tall, dark-haired, broad-shouldered and scowling.

_Were you spying on him then? _Setta asked curiously.

_Not exactly. I was disguised as a scullery maid, but that day I had to replace one of the regular servants and bring the council members wine._

She was ashamed to remember how badly her hands had shaken as she placed a wine glass in front of the king, petrified to be so near the Varden's greatest enemy. The other servants had teased her gently afterward, assuming she was merely afraid, like the rest of them, that the king would find out how they always spit in his glass in the kitchens before pouring the wine.

Corliss smiled distantly, wondering if she would ever see those servants again. Even if she did, Corliss realized, they wouldn't recognize her now that she had removed her human disguise. The thought made her sad. She had remained quite distant from the other servants, but even still, living among them had almost felt like having friends. Suddenly angry with herself, she pushed the thought away.

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Despite Corliss's hurried pace north, she could almost have called that afternoon _peaceful_. She found it unusually easy to talk to Setta, especially about topics she normally would have avoided at all costs. Setta proved to be a remarkable listener, as well, despite her nearly constant attempts to leap off of Corliss's shoulder and fly mid-conversation. Extremely curious about her new Rider, the Varden, the dwarf clans, and the other dragons, Setta peppered Corliss with questions until the sun was low in the western sky.

_Look! _Setta flapped her wings excitedly, smacking Corliss in the face.

As Corliss crested the next grassy hill, a small clump of buildings had appeared on the horizon. _Bullridge, _she thought happily. _And we're just ahead of schedule, too._

The sun was hovering over the western hills, but surely the stables would still be open. Now they could purchase a horse or pony in town, and they would reach the elves at the edge of Du Weldenvarden in just a few days!

"_Yes!"_ Corliss pumped a fist in the air at their good luck. She started down the hill towards Bullridge, petting Setta's thorny tail contentedly. Setta rested her head on Corliss's, the warm metallic feeling of her scales oddly comforting.

Corliss could already see a handful of torches lit in the dying light; in the distance to the east, the Ramr River wound drunkenly in and out of the hills and fields of wheat and corn that spread out north of Bullridge. She could already hear the river rapids splashing, and smiled at the sound.

Corliss felt a flicker of unease as she removed her invisibility spell, feeling naked after having spent so long unseen. _This shouldn't take long, Setta, _the girl said, tucking the small dragon into her satchel securely.

Setta had grown quite a lot since yesterday, but with her tail, neck and wings folded tightly she still fit just right in the satchel. _I can't just leave you alone in the wilderness, so you'll have to stay hidden in here. You're still under an invisibility spell, but you could still be heard. Don't move or make a sound, no matter what. Understand?_

_Yes. _Setta squirmed around inside the bag, folding her long wings up neatly at her sides. _Hurry up, _she complained. _Too big to stay in here for long._

Taking a deep breath, Corliss patted her satchel protectively and stepped onto the dirt road leading into town.

It was oddly quiet. It wasn't terribly late in the evening, but Corliss couldn't hear any voices in the nearby houses, and she couldn't see any people out on the streets.

_Something's not right, _she thought to Setta, moments before a group of soldiers stepped into view.

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Hope you enjoyed this chapter, and don't forget to review!

The next chapter will be up soon!


	6. Chapter 6

"Here's the next chapter! It might be a bit until I update again, what with real life getting in the way, but I'll do my best. That being said...sorry to leave you guys on this note. This chapter is where things actually start to happen, and...yeah. Sorry. Anyway, please remember to review and let me know how you like the story, where you want it to go, what you like or don't like about it, blah blah blah. Constructive criticism is always welcome!

Also, thanks to imodz03 and Yami the Outcast for your kind reviews! I hope you enjoy this next chapter, and please don't kill me. Everything will become clear eventually.

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_It was oddly quiet. It wasn't terribly late in the evening, but Corliss couldn't hear any voices in the nearby houses, and she couldn't see any people out on the streets. _

_Something's not right, she thought to Setta, moments before a group of soldiers stepped into view._

"Well, well, well, who is this?" One of the soldiers asked his companions, as the men—twelve, Corliss counted quickly—blocked her way onto the main street.

_How did the king's men get here so quickly? _Corliss thought, mirroring Setta's confusion and panic. She hurriedly shielded their minds from the approaching men.

"We asked you a question, girl," another of the men snapped, his hand on the hilt of his sword. "Who are you and what is your purpose in Bullridge?"

A third soldier clapped him on the back. "Oh, calm yourself. A little thing like her? She can't be what the King's looking for."

Corliss clenched her teeth to steady her nerves. It was too late to turn back now. "I am traveling north to s-stay with my sister in G-Gil'ead, sir," she said, eyes downcast and voice wavering in a perfect show of timid deference. "My…my horse twisted an ankle about five miles south, and I'm in need of a new one, sir."

"North, you say?" the first soldier repeated, raising an eyebrow at her. "Coming from Uru'baen, are you?"

"From Furnost, sir."

"Furnost, you say? That's an awfully long way to travel, isn't it?" he looked around at the other soldiers, who nodded in agreement. "Did you happen to stop in Uru'baen on your way north?"

Corliss hesitated. She didn't want to mention going to Uru'baen, but not stopping there for supplies would sound too suspicious. "Uh, y-yes, sir," she said finally.

"You wouldn't happen to have heard of any…_commotion_…down in Uru'baen before you left, would you?" the man continued. He stepped closer to her.

Corliss took a step back. "I don't know of any c-commotion, sir. Please, I only want to buy a horse..." A shiver ran down her spine, and she realized with horror that one of them was trying to break down her mental barrier.

The first soldier replied, his face leering down at her, but Corliss had stopped listening. Instead, her eyes flickered to one of the soldiers on her left, a dark-eyed, angry-looking man, who was leaning close to another soldier. "…Can't read her thoughts…" he was whispering. "…blocking me out…must be hiding something…"

So they had a magician with them.

Corliss stumbled back from the soldiers involuntarily, beginning to panic. _Don't worry, Setta,_ she thought desperately. _I won't let them capture you._

This group was too small to have more than one magician with them. But a magician meant wards against magical attacks. Searching for the subtle charges of magic surrounding the soldiers, she sensed the wards immediately…immunity from basic magical attacks, but not physical ones, she realized…a typical oversight.

"_Well_, girl?" the first soldier repeated impatiently, bringing Corliss back to the man in front of her.

"Wh…what, sir?" she said distractedly, still studying the traces of the wards and thinking of a plan.

But before the soldier could reply, the man trying to read her mind shoved his way to the front. "Turn out your bag, girl," he barked at her.

_Barzul…_

"She's hiding something!" he continued angrily to his fellow soldiers. "She's blocked her mind from me. I can't get through!"

"Open your mind up," one of the men commanded, unsheathing his sword and pointing it at Corliss. "And empty your bag. If you really are an innocent traveler you will have nothing to hide from us!"

Corliss's hands shook at the clasp of the satchel, but she couldn't tell if it was Setta or herself trembling harder. _My illusion spell, _she remembered desperately. Setta should still be invisible to everyone but her!

_Don't move, Setta. _Praying to every god she could think of, she slowly opened her bag and showed it to the men in front of her.

"You see, sirs?" she said, her voice higher than usual. "I don't know what the king is looking for, but I doubt it's a bit of stale food and a water skin-"

The dark-eyed man leapt forward and grabbed her arm roughly. "You're still shielding your mind!" he hissed at her. "_What are you hiding?_" He hit her across the face, leaving her ears ringing and her jaw aching. As she stumbled back, the man took his chance and broke through her mental barriers, searching through images and thoughts—

"_Get out of my head!" _Corliss roared, lashing out blindly, fists trembling from the pain and confusion of his mental attack.

But it was too late. The dark-eyed man had leapt back and was staring at her in a mixture of disbelief and glee. He gave her a menacing smile.

Corliss felt her blood go cold. She knew exactly what he had seen in her mind.

Eyes gleaming, the magician barked a spell in the Ancient Language, and in her fear it took her a moment to understand the words: "_Make it visible." _

Before she could react, he lunged forward and wrenched the satchel away from her.

"_NO!" _Corliss cried.

A flash of copper exploded from the bag. The man fell backward onto the gravel road with a yell, the sound of wingbeats filling the night air. Bloody gashes appeared on his face and shoulders as Setta hovered above him, wings beating wildly. The dragon raked his skin with her claws, fangs, and spiked tail in a flurry of movement, stopping the man from uttering another spell or getting to his feet.

Two soldiers grasped Corliss by the shoulders roughly, while the others moved in front of her to approach Setta. "Steady, men," one of the soldiers barked to the others. "The king will want it alive."

At these words, Setta leapt up from her victim, who had stopped struggling against her and lay motionless in the dirt. The dragon's claws and fangs were dripping with blood, and with a few rapid wingbeats she launched herself at the pack of soldiers.

_Leave us alone! _Setta roared, fear and a fierce delight flooding into Corliss's mind through their link. The soldiers holding Corliss faltered for a moment at this new attack, flinching away from the whirling claws and fangs.

Not wasting her advantage, Corliss wrenched the sword from the grasp of the soldier on her left. As he twisted around in surprise to face her, she stabbed the man through the stomach, then turned to the one on her right.

Raising his own sword, he knocked Corliss's weapon from her hands with little effort. She dodged a killing blow, ducking low at an angle humans weren't used to aiming, and threw herself at the man's legs, knocking him over. She knocked him unconscious with a few well-placed blows, and leapt up to see Setta fighting back three soldiers at once.

The men were having difficulty aiming at the dragon with their swords, as Setta weaved through the air over their heads before diving at one of them, claws and fangs ripping at every inch of skin they could find, then leaping back up out of reach. Her scales gleamed dimly from the lights of the homes in Bullridge.

Corliss watched in awe. _Get them, Setta!_

_I'm flying, Corliss! Flying! _The fierce joy in Setta's mind was stronger than ever, and Corliss fought the oddest urge to laugh out loud.

Picking up a sword from a fallen soldier, Corliss stabbed another man whose attention had been focused on the dragon. She wasn't used to fights like this, and the sword felt clunky and unwieldy in her hands, but it would have to do—

Suddenly the flat of a sword smashed into her skull. Black and red flashed across Corliss's eyes as she dropped to the ground like a rock, struggling to see.

_Corliss! _Setta exclaimed in horror. The dragon paused in her attack for a fraction of a second, hovering above the heads of the remaining soldiers.

That infinitesimal pause was all it took. One of the men, blood dripping from his face and arms, raised his sword and brought it down in a deadly arc above his head.

**_SETTA_**_! _Corliss's vision went dark again as pain exploded through her body. She felt as though her back had been cleaved in two and her arms had been ripped off, surely, _surely _she was surely bleeding to death in the grass, dying, the pain, the pain, _the_ _pain, there was nothing else in the world_—but suddenly she realized it was coming from her _mind_, it wasn't her pain, wasn't her blood, but Setta's—_Setta's—"**Setta!**" _she screamed.

Her eyes were still crossed from the blow to her head, but even if her vision cleared, she could barely see from where she'd fallen on the ground; she struggled in vain to get up and nearly passed out from another wave of pain.

The soldiers were yelling, cheering, cursing, trying to get to her dragon, and Corliss couldn't breathe from the pain, couldn't see Setta through the pack of soldiers, couldn't get to her, _couldn't see her, _and in rage and panic she leapt at the soldiers, knocking down one after another, punching and kicking and roaring like a berserker, and now she could see a small copper form, bloody and paralyzed with pain and crying out weakly_, _and Corliss's heart was breaking at the sight, and somehow she found the strength for a spell: "_Make her invisible again, let no one see or hear her!"_

Then she was hit in the chest by a huge fist and fell to the ground, gasping for breath, was hit again by the flat of a sword, and could barely see straight, couldn't think through the pain from her mental link—now at least three soldiers were pinning her down, were cursing, yelling, pointing a sword at her throat, they were binding her hands and feet with rope, _they were going to do the same to Setta_—Corliss bellowed for all she was worth, "RUN, SETTA! RUN! GET AS FAR AS YOU CAN, RUN, FLY, HURRY, YOU HAVE TO-"

One of the soldiers gagged her roughly, but she continued to scream in her mind for all she was worth, twisting and struggling against her bonds, panic building, knocking one soldier over with her shoulder, then another, struggling to her knees, then to her feet, feeling the rope beginning to tear, _RUN! RUN! GET OUT OF THE EMPIRE, I'LL CATCH UP WITH YOU, GET AWAY, YOU CAN'T LET THEM CATCH YOU, GO, GO! LEAVE ME AND GO—_

Another fist collided with her skull, and Corliss fell back to the ground, Setta's pain overwhelming her.

The world turned black.


	7. Chapter 7

Sorry about the wait for this chapter! I know that was a...less than happy note to end a chapter on last time. Sorry, y'all, I feel really mean! On that note, this will probably be my last update until early summer, since I have a lot of real-world stuff to do and really should have been working on that instead of writing this chapter. That being said, any feedback, constructive criticism or suggestions are greatly appreciated! And again, thanks to Restrained Freedom for your kind reviews, and sorry that last chapter was so rough! You'll just have to keep reading to see what happens next!

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Chapter 7

When Corliss opened her eyes, it was pitch black.

She blinked a few times, her eyes slowly noticing a weak ray of light in the room. It was trickling from a high barred window on her right, illuminating nothing but the thin, scratchy mat she was laying on. "Where am I?" she muttered out loud, her voice sounding loud and unnatural in the thick, dark air. "Where is…"

Suddenly her memories came rushing back to her—walking through the hills with a metallic dragon on her shoulder, seeing the flickering lights of Bullridge, soldiers pouring onto the street, a flash of copper wings, clanging swords, Setta roaring, an explosion of pain—

"SETTA!"

Corliss leapt to her feet, blood turning cold. "Setta, where are you? Setta!" She stumbled through the dim light until she reached a heavy iron door. She pounded on it viciously.

"Let me out!" Corliss roared, attacking the door with her heavy fists. It didn't budge. She rammed it with her broad shoulders, yelling through the dim little window in the door.

It was too high for her to see through, though doubtless a tall human would be able to peer through the bars easily. Not for the first time, she cursed her height, letting a stream of dwarvish curses echo through the cell.

She continued to pound on the door until her hands were numb.

_Stop it, Corliss. Stop and think._

Forcing herself to back away from the door and take deep breaths, Corliss sat back down on her mat. _Analyze the situation. You can't just punch your problems until they go away…_

What was her situation, then? She was obviously in Uru'baen, most likely in the king's castle—there were no other high-security prisons in the area, and after all, it only made sense he would want to keep her here once he'd caught her. _What else? Come on, think. _It was daytime, that much was obvious from the weak light streaming in from the high window. Probably dusk or dawn, though, judging by its orangey quality.

More importantly, there were wards around the door, window, and walls of her cell—faintly visible to her trained eyes—preventing escape by both magical and physical means. She blushed faintly—pounding at the door like that had been a complete waste of time.

She couldn't perform magic either, Corliss noticed after a moment of concentration. The Ancient Language still came to mind, but she couldn't give the words any power…probably due to a drug or spell she'd been given while unconscious. _Great. _

So then: how to get out? How to get to Setta? Where would a dragon be kept in a prison, anyway? She was small enough to be kept in a cell like Corliss's, after all, so perhaps she wasn't too far away. And hopefully her injuries had been attended to, the girl thought desperately. Surely the king wouldn't just leave a hatchling to suffer or die in a cell, surely…he would want Setta alive, after all.

Corliss hugged her knees to her chest, shaking. _Setta, where are you? _

The separation was already making her head pound, as though parts of her mental barrier had fallen down and her thoughts were echoing around the vast emptiness of her skull, no longer able to make the journey to Setta's mind. _But maybe…_a dark, cruel thought slithered into her brain. _Maybe it feels that painful, that empty, because the connection has already been lost permanently…maybe it's because Setta's already d-_

"No!" Corliss leapt to her feet, determined to push the thoughts away. There was only one thing to do. If she couldn't escape from her cell, then she would get answers to her questions. She would find out just what she was dealing with!

The girl marched up to the heavy door and began to pound on it again, harder than ever. "Hey! Let me out! Guards! I know you can hear me! Hey! Get over here and tell me what's going on!" With each word her fists slammed into the door, and she could hear the sounds of it echoing down the hall.

Anger building, she kept shouting: "_You heard me, get over here and let me out, you pathetic weaklings, you cowards, barzuln jok!" _Her words started to slip into Dwarvish, as they always did when she was furious:_ "Menotho, clan-less sheilven, let me out! Jok menknurlan, jok Helzvog-garzul, Morgothal-forsaken sons of—"_

She barely had any warning before the cell door burst open.

Corliss scrambled back from the door, heart still pounding from her outburst, as a tall, red-clad figure strode into her cell.

They stared at one another for a moment, Corliss's eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"You're Murtagh," she said accusingly.

"_Y__ou're_ the new rider? The egg thief?" he said after a moment of shock, doubt obvious in his voice. He was looking at her in confusion, eyebrows slightly raised.

Oh, Corliss had received _that_ look before. She jutted her chin out defiantly and held up her silver-marked palm as proof. "Did you expect someone taller?" she snapped.

The flash of guilt in Murtagh's gray eyes told her that yes, he had. "For how loudly you were shouting, I admit I was," he said finally. "What were you thinking, provoking the guards like that? I had to stop them from barging into your cell to 'teach you proper manners,' as they put it."

"I could have handled them," Corliss said impatiently. "Besides, they clearly didn't understand half of what I was saying, or they really _would _have barged in here. But what are _you_ doing here?"

Murtagh sighed, and there was an air of reluctance in his voice. "Now that the guards know you're awake, you're to be taken to see the king."

_Galbatorix. _Corliss shuddered involuntarily, then took a deep breath. Squaring her shoulders, she met Murtagh's eyes. "Good," the girl said with forced bravado. "Maybe he can answer some of my questions."

Murtagh's eyebrows shot up even further at her response. "You don't know much about the king, do you?"

"Enough to know that if he wants to question me or torture me, there's not much I can do about it," she retorted. _Might as well put on a brave face while you can, _she thought, though her blood felt like ice in her veins. "Besides, now I can find out what he's done with my dragon."

_"__What?" _Murtagh exclaimed, taking a step back.

"_My dragon_," Corliss looked up at him in confusion. "Has she been imprisoned, or is he keeping her-"

"You mean _you_ don't know where she is?"

"Of course not! I got knocked out, all I remember is fighting with the soldiers in Bullridge! I…wait, are you telling me _the king_ doesn't know where she is either?"

"I think he was hoping _you _would provide him with that information…" his look was almost sympathetic now. "He won't like hearing that."

"So she got away?" Corliss breathed, her heart lightening so dramatically that her head started to spin. She sat down on her mat in the corner, letting out a shaky laugh. "_She got away…" _She resisted the urge to get up and hug the red rider. _Setta got away! _

"We need to go," Murtagh said hurriedly, pressing a hand to his forehead. "The king wants to see you as quickly as possible."

Had the king been speaking to Murtagh mentally? Corliss got up, still in a bit of a daze. _Setta got away! Somehow, somehow she managed to avoid the Empire…_ "Fine." She wouldn't be sorry to leave her cell behind, at least for a while. _Unless…_the dark, slithering voice crept back into her thoughts. _Unless they can't find her because she was hurt too badly at Bullridge…_Corliss's breathing hitched. _And they can't find her because there's nothing left to find, because she's d-_

"_No!" _Corliss hissed to herself, stomping out the thought with all her might, as Murtagh raised an eyebrow at her. "Let's just go," she said. "We wouldn't want to make the king angry, would we?"

"Of course not," the red rider replied evenly.

They exited the dusty cell, Murtagh leading the way down the dark corridor. He hadn't put a new spell on her, and her hands weren't cuffed or tied, but Corliss knew, as well as Murtagh did, that she wouldn't be able to escape if she tried. She'd been lucky enough to have escaped from under the king's nose once; she doubted she would manage it again. Shaking involuntarily, she forced herself to match Murtagh's brisk pace through the halls of the castle, hoping that wherever Setta was, she was safe, free, and flying as fast as her wings could take her in the opposite direction of the Empire.

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Don't forget to review! I'm trying to make my chapters longer now, but I wanted y'all to have an update since you had to deal with last chapter's ending...so let me know what you think!


	8. Chapter 8

To thank you all for being patient with me, here's a nice long chapter for you all. If anyone is still reading this story, that is. I hope some of you are, because I'm still committed to writing this thing, and I'm excited to share it with y'all. Please keep giving reviews so I know there's still an audience for this! Thanks for reading and let me know what you think!

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Chapter 8

_Setta got away, she got away, she got away, _Corliss chanted to herself as Murtagh led her down corridor after corridor. But even that thought was no longer keeping her spirits up.

She was being taken to see the king. The outcome she had been dreading above all since the day she agreed to steal the egg. Terror was building in her veins, turning her blood to ice and her legs into jelly, forcing her to struggle even more to keep up with Murtagh's long, quick strides.

"Hold on," she snapped at him as he swept down another corner, past a few uniformed guards making their rounds, who stared curiously at Corliss as she passed. "My legs are shorter than yours, if you haven't noticed."

"The sooner you arrive in the throne room, the happier the king will be," the red rider retorted in his low voice. "And you really don't want to catch him in a bad mood."

_The king. _Forcing herself to ignore her fear, her thoughts turned idly to the halls Murtagh was leading her down. Most of them she recognized from her time as a servant here, but only vaguely. She'd been confined to the kitchens by day, only slipping out to roam the halls in the dead of night in search of Setta's egg.

Corliss had been so disappointed the first time she saw the inside of the castle, she recalled almost wistfully. The outside of the king's castle was almost laughably intimidating: massive walls of unforgiving stone lined with cruel statues and towering turrets; a structure worthy of a fairytale villain. That, coupled with the king's reputation among the Varden, had convinced her that the inside of the castle must be decorated with severed heads on spikes, chandeliers made of contorted skeletons, blood dripping from the walls and the screams of tortured prisoners echoing down every corridor.

The truth was underwhelming, to say the least.

Corliss tried not to feel disappointed that she had not seen a single head on a spike decorating the chandeliers were made not of bones, but of some kind of elegant, twisting metal dotted with fat old candles that gave off an almost comforting glow. The walls were covered not with blood, but with tall, rounded windows interspersed with heavy tapestries that must have been centuries old. Corliss tried to get a closer look at one as they passed: it seemed to depict an armored woman flying into battle on a massive dragon, whose scales might once have been violet, before time and the elements had faded them to a dull gray.

"Come on," Murtagh interrupted her harshly, turning back to glare at her impatiently.

Corliss opened her mouth to make a rude retort when, suddenly, the tapestry on the wall shuddered.

"What the…" she muttered, and without warning it shook again, more violently, the hooks holding it up creaking in the stone wall.

"Oh, no," Murtagh hissed as the walls on either side of them quaked, trickles of dust raining from the ceiling. A few of the candles in one of the chandeliers went out. "Damn it, not now!" His eyes were wide with near panic.

"What's going on?" Corliss exclaimed in shock as the floor beneath her jerked. "Is it some kind of earthqu—?"

"Guard!" the red rider shouted over her. "You there!"

A uniformed woman hurried toward them over the quaking floor, looking startled, though whether of the earthquake or of Murtagh, Corliss wasn't sure. "Yes, my lord?" she replied quickly.

"You are to take the prisoner Corliss to the throne room. Immediately, understand? I have urgent business to attend to!"

"Wait, Murtagh, what's going—"

"Come on, now," the guard interrupted Corliss, forcing her into motion with a shove as Murtagh sprinted away, his footsteps echoing down the hall.

"Who are you?" Corliss asked the guard as she led her down a wide flight of steps, stumbling slightly as the stairs gave a particularly hard jerk under her feet.

"I am one of the castle guard," the woman replied unhelpfully. She towered over Corliss as they walked, completely ignoring the creaking of the ceilings and floors, and the shaking of the tapestries and torches along the walls. "Now, when you approach the king, you are to bow to him and refer to him as 'your majesty,' you understand?"

Ice stabbed at her veins again as she remembered what was coming. She didn't answer.

The guard led her down one last hall, grander than the rest, and paused before two ornate doors, which were rattling slightly in their frames. "Good luck," she said, her expression unreadable.

The guard threw the doors open and called out imperiously, "The prisoner Corliss to see his Majesty, the King!"

As though her legs were suddenly made of stone, Corliss forced herself to enter the throne room, the heavy doors slamming shut behind her with an echoing bang that sent her heart pounding in her chest.

"Ah, welcome, Corliss," a deep voice intoned, this sound nearly making her heart stop entirely. "My newest Rider."

Remembering the guard's orders, the words "your majesty" sprang to the tip of her tongue. Suddenly, though, she found she did not want to say them. Instead, she merely stared, squaring her shoulders defiantly, at King Galbatorix.

He, like the inside of his castle, had not been what she had expected. King Galbatorix was a tall man, but very thin, his shoulders slightly hunched as though bent from carrying a great weight. His black hair was streaked with gray and his face etched with lines, and yet he had the undeniable appearance of a handsome young man prematurely aged. He was dressed in elegant robes of midnight blue and black, a small, unassuming crown perched in the almost shoulder-length hair. He sat upon his throne, loftily, black-gloved hands resting on the arms of the minimalistic golden chair, which was shaking slightly on the still quaking floor.

Corliss met his eyes boldly, knew she needed to respond. But there was something startling about the king that Corliss hadn't remembered from her glimpses of him as a scullery maid…his eyes.

His eyes were _red._

The once-blue irises were streaked with red that Corliss was sure had not been there when she had served him wine that one evening, that evening that now seemed years and years ago. She could not think what it meant. In fact, she could not think much at all.

Finally she found her voice. "I am not _your _Rider."

"No," Galbatorix agreed, ignoring her breach of etiquette. "Not yet. First, I need some questions answered." He rose from the throne smoothly, and strode towards her.

Corliss braced herself, ready for a harsh interrogation, but she was not ready for the mental attack that struck like a bolt of lightning. Crying out, she felt her defenses break almost instantly as the king towered over her, red eyes gleaming, searching through her innermost thoughts.

Her eyes watering in pain, she tried to keep from screaming but couldn't, as Galbatorix inflicted a stabbing pain with every memory he examined. Crumpling onto the floor, one of her last coherent thoughts was relief that the Varden had never revealed any of their strategic plans to her, just in case this were to happen…at least they were safe...at least...

_Corliss was standing in front of a group of dwarf priests in Tarnag. Although she was very young she had already surpassed them all in height, and was subconsciously hunching her shoulders forward to appear shorter even as she bristled in anger._

_"__How could you do this?" she exclaimed, tears in her eyes, as she glared down at the impassive faces of the priests. "When my father is one of the greatest men in Durgrimst Quan—"_

_"__You are not your father," one of them said sternly, glaring at her as though she were something disgusting stuck to his shoe. "We cannot allow a half-blood dwarf clanship in Durgrimst Quan, no matter who her father is. You will be permitted to continue living among us for a time, but with the status of an outsider, a guest. You-"_

_That was it, then? Live clan-less? At the thought her stomach heaved, and she feared she would vomit in front of them. Corliss pushed past them all and fled out of the temple, not wanting them to see the tears streaming down her face—_

"Stop!" Corliss cried out as, one by one, her own memories flashed through her head, the king stabbing and ripping through her mind with his own, and then her vision flickered again—

_Corliss was examining the faint traces of magic surrounding the door, which itself was hidden in a wall, invisible to the naked eye. She could trace spells like no one else could, read the imprints of the words of the Ancient Language that the finished spells left behind._

_Every spell had a weakness, even one the king's. But surely it would not be a weakness as obvious as _this_, as easy to penetrate…"Ha!" she whispered triumphantly, her voice echoing disjointedly from her position on the ground, crouching by the door, cloaked by an invisibility spell._

_She had made out most of the words of the defensive spell now. "Let no human, elf or dwarf enter beyond my threshold…ha!" she muttered, her face splitting into a huge smile._

_The wording was old, traditional, pulsing with more power than Corliss had ever encountered, but Corliss knew it couldn't stop her for all its strength. "Galbatorix, you great fool," she laughed to herself, standing and placing her stolen key in the lock. She braced herself, turned the knob, and entered the room._

_Being neither a human, elf, nor dwarf, she passed through the magical shield unharmed, sneaking closer and closer to where she knew the last dragon egg was hidden…-_

A sharp spike of pain tore Corliss from that memory too. "THAT is how you did it, then?" the king's face inches from her own. He was holding her by the throat with a gloved hand, red eyes bulging with fury. "Well, this _great fool _has caught you in the end, half-breed," he spat, throwing Corliss heavily back onto the ground.

The girl gasped and clutched at her throat, struggling for breath. Dizziness consumed her and a headache stronger than she had ever known was pounding behind her skull. Dimly, she wiped a trickle of blood from her nose.

"It is no matter, however," the king snapped. "I have seen enough. Your dragon will be recaptured quickly enough, and you will begin your training as a Rider."

"Make…me," rasped Corliss from the floor, knowing it was reckless, knowing full well he _could _make her…

The king was silent for a long moment, as if putting pieces of a puzzle together in his head. Finally, his mouth widened into a hellish grin made even more unnerving by the red eyes gleaming above it.

He opened his mouth and spoke.

Corliss heard the words but did not comprehend them all, as a scream was torn from her lips and the pounding in her head increased exponentially. "No!" she fought for breath, nails scratching at the floor desperately. "_No, stop, stop!"_

It was her true name.

She didn't know how she knew what it was; all she could think was that she would give anything to unlearn these words. "Stop, stop, _that's not me, it's not me, it's not!"_

Galbatorix's voice reached her ears as if from a long distance. "You see? I have power you cannot imagine, my young Rider, and you _will _train under me and obey. Now, stand up."

Corliss glared up at him mutinously, murderously, but found herself standing as though she were a marionette pulled by invisible strings. _No, it can't be true…_

"Now, my Rider, you may go. A guard will be waiting outside to take you to your rooms."

"My…my rooms?" Corliss responded, her voice still hoarse.

"_You will address me as "Your Majesty," _the king said in an almost whisper, smiling horribly, as he turned to sit back on his throne.

_Say it, _the magic forced her. "Your…your majesty," Corliss replied automatically, shaking with self-hatred. "What do you mean, my rooms?"

"Oh, you will not disobey me any longer, Rider. You will be a loyal servant, and therefore I see no reason for you to stay any longer in your cell."

Corliss was moving shakily toward the large, ornate doors at the end of the throne room, utterly desperate to leave.

"One more thing, Corliss," Galbatorix called to her as she laid a hand on the golden door handle. "You must bow to your king before you leave," he ordered, his voice holding a smugness that made Corliss want to smash something.

_You are no king of mine, _she thought vehemently, prepared for the magic to force her into a bow, ready to resist it. _Bow to your king, _the magic urged her, her back bending unconsciously forward before she thought again, more strongly this time, _you are no king of mine!_

The force pushing her into a bow disappeared as quickly as it had come.

"Well?" Galbatorix barked at her. "Bow!"

This time she had no choice, her back bent low in a bow, and she stood as quickly as the magic would let her, wrenching the door open and practically fleeing from the throne room.

The king knew her true name. How could she hope to escape now?


	9. Chapter 9

Here's the next chapter! I know it's not a whole lot to go on, but I'll try and have the next chapter up soon. Thanks for putting up with my slow updates and for your reviews, Restrained Freedom and Papyrklip! And yes, things happened pretty fast in that last chapter, but they were meant to happen in a bit of a rush. Things will slow down a bit now.

Don't forget to review! I like to know people are still reading this :)

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Chapter 9

Corliss staggered out of the throne room desperately, her chest heaving.

The door slammed shut behind her, leaving behind a ringing, overwhelming silence that made her head pound. Corliss's headache that had been growing steadily all day had grown so strong she thought her head might burst.

"This way, Rider." As if from a very great distance, a gruff voice reached her ears. Looking up dully, she nodded at the uniformed guard waiting for her, the same stern-looking woman from earlier, who was still wearing a carefully neutral expression.

She followed automatically, barely even noticing that the walls and floors were still trembling and quaking violently as they walked.

Corliss was numb.

It had somehow become very difficult to think. As though in shock, her battered and exhausted mind struggled to comprehend what had just happened in the throne room.

More than anything, she wished for the time—it seemed like years ago now—that she had walked through the grassland with Setta perched on her shoulder, talking about strange dragon names and laughing together as the hatchling tried again and again to fly. An odd sort of lump appeared in Corliss's throat as she recalled Setta's rapturous surprise upon learning that the sun rose in the sky every day.

It seemed impossible that those memories were only days old; they belonged to someone else, not her; they were something out of a fairy tale, not her own life...

She had felt Galbatorix sift through these memories only minutes ago; he had not dwelt on them long. Corliss wanted to hope that he had not found anything in her memories that he could use to locate her dragon now…

But she was not sure she was capable of hope anymore.

All her work for the Varden, all of her attempts to prove Durgrimst Quan wrong about her and to make a real difference in the war…everything she had ever worked for…it was all over.

And yet, as she walked, one thing kept seeping through her thoughts like poison, drowning out even the thoughts of her lost freedom and her lost dragon…

Corliss had heard her true name.

Who would have thought a few simple words would have left her so broken?

_Jealous, solitary, stubborn…_

Most of the words were simple enough, she conceded numbly. Yet the actual construction of her true name had been complex, each word playing off of the other in their ordering and tone and layered meanings, winding positive, negative, and neutral traits together to form a single, cohesive personality.

It probably would have been fascinating to study, she thought numbly. Still, she couldn't seem to stop the individual words, the newly bared facets of her personality, so cold and bare and blunt, from slicing through her mind like knives.

_Narrow-minded, rash…no, no, stop…_

A sort of numb terror pounded through her blood as she walked, a few steps behind the guard, who was ignoring her completely.

She would give almost anything to unlearn those words the king had spat at her in the throne room. They rang through her skull, echoing off of the walls of her mind, poisoning her thoughts and ripping at the part of her consciousness that had been stretched and severed when she had lost Setta.

_That can't be who I am, it can't be! It's not me, it's not, it's not, it's not, it's not—_

Though half of her brain was chanting this manta ceaselessly, the other, rational, half knew it was untrue. A heavy weight had settled in her stomach, so heavy that it made walking difficult.

It was impossible to deny one's true name. Impossible. After all, a true name was…well, _true. _

_Selfish, lonely, ignorant, no, __**stop**__, that's not me…—_

Throughout all her years of extensive magical study, she had never given even a fleeting thought to what her true name might be. Frankly, it had always sounded to her like a sentimental load of dragon dung. Barzul, what an idiot she had been…

She had never guessed it would be like this.

_But…I can't really be like that, can I? _The stupid, optimistic half of her brain gave one last, feeble effort. _Insecure, desperate, hostile, that isn't you, is it?_

The dark, rational part of her brain scoffed.

_The Ancient Language doesn't lie, _it hissed cruelly in her pounding skull. _You heard it with your own ears: so selfish, so alone, it's all true, you know it is, why do you think you never had friends growing up, or why your mother left you to live in Farthen Dur, so jealous and ignorant and insecure, it's all true, it's all true, why on Guntera's green earth did Setta hatch for you in the first pl—_

"_STOP_!"

Corliss screamed out loud, freezing in place and clenching her skull between her hands as though it might burst.

There was a long pause. Her guard raised an arched eyebrow at her, but didn't say anything. Finally she looked away from Corliss, eyes flashing with what might have been pity, and announced, "Your rooms."

Corliss blinked and straightened up stiffly. She hadn't realized how far they had walked.

The guard was pointing at a set of thick wooden double doors a few yards down the hall. She forced herself to nod in acknowledgement and the guard nodded back impassively, turning and walking away without another word.

The doors were heavy and gleaming and, despite their beauty, they sat slightly crookedly in their frames, giving a sense of aging yet sturdy elegance. The handles were in the shape of dragons' heads, and, unless Corliss was very much mistaken, they were made of solid gold.

Wrenching them open—the one on the left stuck a bit—Corliss stared into her new rooms.

"Guntera below…!" The girl slumped weakly against the door frame, thoughts of her true name temporarily fading.

The room was beautiful.

An elegant canopy bed stood in one corner, framed by heavy white curtains and piled with a thick mattress and a heading of simple, clean pillows Corliss had a feeling were covered in the finest silk.

Worn planks of dark wood made up the wide floor, and they creaked slightly under Corliss's feet as she examined the masterfully detailed paintings and tapestries lining the stone walls.

She passed over a large wardrobe and desk, both made of the same worn-down wood, and a few shelves on which magically preserved flowers were arranged in heavy china vases. Soon another door caught her eye, and she pulled it open too—this doorknob was shaped more normally, though it still appeared to be made of gold.

Inside she discovered a cavernous bathroom, complete with smooth marble floors, a full-length mirror and even more flowers in heavy glass vases. In the corner gold pipes jutted out of the wall over a large copper bathtub, complete with—Corliss gasped out loud at this—automatic plumbing. The water must be drawn through the pipes with some clever spell, she observed curiously, flipping the taps on and off.

Everything about this place was gorgeous, and not only that, but far more comforting and pleasant than Corliss had found the rest of the castle. There was something soothing and nostalgic about worn wooden floors and stone walls, she thought idly; it reminded her of her ancient, worn living quarters in Durgrimst Quan, though these were far bigger and more extravagant. She could even see herself becoming quite used to the luxury of it all.

As this thought flitted through her mind, she turned and met the eyes of her reflection in the full-length mirror.

She stared at herself for a moment.

There was dried blood on her mouth and chin from a nosebleed back in the throne room, and her lip had split open when the king had thrown her down onto the floor. There were red marks on her neck as well. Perhaps it was the pervasive numbness flooding through her mind, but she hadn't felt any pain from it until now.

The blood on her face, combined with her muddy clothes and utterly filthy mess of hair hanging down in knots, made her look wild. But what unnerved her most was how _dead _her eyes looked as she stared into them.

Corliss frowned. Her fists clenched slowly. Her reflection, more than anything, brought her quite suddenly back to her present situation. She was still a prisoner. No fancy automatic plumbing or golden doorknobs would change that.

She looked around at her new quarters again.

Gone were the brief traces of peacefulness the rooms had brought her.

Gone, too, was the cold sort of numbness that had consumed her in the hall.

It was all too much. Suddenly, her blood was boiling, her fists shaking, and an all-consuming rage had seized her.

She seized one of the heavy glass vases from a countertop.

_"__Do you expect me to be happy here?"_ Corliss yelled, hurling the vase at the far wall of the bathroom with all her considerable strength. The shattering sound it made was deeply satisfying.

_"__Do you expect me to accept this?" _she roared, blood pounding in her ears. With a heave, she grabbed the edge of the full-length mirror and brought it crashing down at her feet, the weight of it making the door tremble in its frame.

_"__Do you expect me to obey just because you gave me a pretty room?" _she screamed. Everything about this luxurious room disgusted her, offended her, made her want to vomit.

"I'd rather be back in my _cell!_ I'd rather _rot_!"

Her voice was becoming hoarse, and her head was pounding more viciously than ever. She could distantly feel shards of the broken glass cutting into her shoes. Fury and terror were warring in her head, both threatening to consume her.

"_I'd rather DIE!_"

Tearing back into her bedroom, she ripped down the thick curtains surrounding the canopy bed and heard them snag and tear on the wooden frame. She tore a large tapestry bodily from the wall and felt the thick metal hooks holding it up loosen as the stone around them chipped and cracked. Without pausing to take a breath, she seized a large painting from the wall opposite, sinking her fist into the middle of it savagely.

"_I'll kill you, murderer, usurper, _menknurlan_, I swear it! _Barzuln jok_! Just—you—wait—!" _With each word she punched a ragged hole in the thick canvas.

Chest heaving, Corliss hurled the painting like a disc across the room and proceeded to the next painting on the wall, and the next. She tore at the room until her muscles ached and her breath came in ragged gasps, eyes darting around the room in a near panic, desperate and unfocused.

Corliss couldn't allow herself to stop moving, she couldn't, not even for a moment.

All she knew was that she if she stopped, then rational thought would once again form in her terrified mind. If she stopped, she would have to face the enormity of what had happened to her, and the stark words of her true name would seep back into her thoughts…worst of all, if she stopped, if she allowed her fury to ebb away, she knew what would be left behind, and she did not want to feel it.

She _couldn't_ stop…she couldn't…

But her arms had grown so heavy, and her breaths were ragged and weary, and Corliss's attacks on her room grew more desperate and feeble.

_She couldn't…_

A terrible prickling blossomed behind her eyes, and her blood turned icy in her veins. Numbly, Corliss dropped the last painting she had been about to rip apart.

She could barely remember the last time she had cried—really, truly cried. It must have been years. But in all her life, Corliss had no memory of falling into _despair_.

It felt dark, and cold. Corliss may have been a half-dwarf, but she couldn't remember ever feeling so small.

Corliss had little memory of the rest of that evening. The next day, she would not recall breaking down in the corner of the bedroom, bitter tears trickling into her matted hair.

She wouldn't remember, either, curling up on the cluttered floor and clutching her right palm to her chest, the gedwey ignasia pressed over her heart, until a shuddering weariness finally consumed her and she fell asleep.

She wouldn't remember, either, that as she drifted into an uneasy sleep, the walls and ceilings of Galbatorix's castle had finally stopped quaking and lay still.

Corliss did, however, remember having fitful dreams of copper dragon's wings and blistering sandstorms, of a gnawing hunger and consuming loneliness and, finally, faintly, of a glorious sunrise.


	10. Chapter 10

I'm back! No, I haven't abandoned this story. It's just difficult to motivate myself when few people are reading or reviewing _Inheritance _stories nowadays, and when I don't particularly care for the source material itself. Anyway, we'll be getting into some of the intrigue and drama soon, so I hope y'all like it! And please don't forget to review, it really does mean the world to me.

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Chapter 10

Murtagh gave a long sigh as he collapsed into a chair in the castle's library. A mountain of books towered over him intimidatingly on a small writing desk near his chair. Muttering a few words in the Ancient Language, Murtagh guided a few orbs of red light toward the torch brackets along the library walls, where they caught fire and cast a pleasant orange glow about the room.

Sitting up stiffly, he opened one of the dusty books and looked over the words. He scowled. It was impossible to concentrate.

"You look terrible."

Murtagh looked up from his book and scowled at the doorway, where a tall, thin figure stooped, analyzing Murtagh's appearance with a mixture of weariness and regret. "Yes, well, it's not half as bad as last time, is it?" the red rider said coldly.

Murtagh gestured listlessly to the livid purple bruise on his jaw, and his new black eye. Murtagh's clothes were also the worse for wear, now badly singed and frayed in places, with blood staining part of his torso a sinister red where he had shattered three of his ribs. He had repaired the critical damage with magic easily enough, but decided not to waste his energy on the smaller injuries.

"Even so, I thank you," the man said quietly, approaching Murtagh wearily and sinking into one of the chairs nearby. "Although I know you do not return the sentiment, I consider you a good friend to me."

His movements were those of a much older man, and he sat pinching the bridge of his nose and frowning deeply. His piercing blue eyes were downcast—he looked utterly defeated. Murtagh briefly considered asking him if he was feeling well, but decided against it.

"Why are you reading?" the man asked after a moment, his voice mild. In the reddish light Murtagh had summoned, his face looked even older than it had before.

Murtagh raised an eyebrow at him. "You wanted me to research the Dragon Riders' pact with the elves and humans. To find out how a half-dwarf could have bonded with a dragon."

"But I can tell you are not focused. You are not thinking about _Dragons and Elves through the Ages. _You are thinking about our newest guest."

Murtagh's scowl deepened. He hated how the man always seemed to know what he was thinking, without actually breaking into his mind.

"Thorn is thinking about her, not me," Murtagh answered truthfully. "And I would hardly call her a guest."

The red dragon's thoughts had been racing through Murtagh's mind ever since they learned that the copper egg had hatched. Even now, Murtagh was trying valiantly to block out Thorn's questions in order to focus on the conversation at hand, but it was getting difficult.

_Don't try to block me out, brother! _Thorn managed to slip in his rider's mind again, sounding indignant. _I know you met her, tell me about her, has the king found her dragon yet? What do you think the new dragon will be like? When can I meet the rider? Will she be able to help the king find a way to—_

_Thorn! Please. _Murtagh rubbed his forehead with a mixture of fondness and weariness. _I'll speak to you later tonight, I can't talk right now..._

Thorn's impatient grumbling filled his rider's mind, and Murtagh sighed.

"As it happens," the other man continued, "I want to speak to you about this new Rider."

"What happened earlier today?" Murtagh asked. "I knew, of course, when I felt the floor shake, but what happened to the girl?"

He did not meet Murtagh's eyes for a long moment. "I acted poorly," the man said. "The timing has been most unfortunate…Now the thief is keeping to her new quarters—she is tearing them apart as we speak. But Murtagh—" the man's eyes suddenly burned with eagerness, making him look much younger. "So much has occurred in the past few days, this thief stealing the dragon's egg, the egg hatching, and for a half-dwarf of all beings, and then the hatchling's sudden disappearance...I have a hundred thousand new questions, Murtagh, and yet I fear it will be difficult to obtain her answers or her cooperation now."

Murtagh sighed. "Yes. She certainly doesn't seem to be in the mood to listen. And you truly don't know where the hatchling is?"

The man shook his head in bewilderment. "Every search I have made has been futile, and yet I refuse to believe this copper dragon is dead. The soldiers who apprehended its rider cannot tell me anything of use either." He sighed. "And I have so many questions that need answering…all of our work will soon pay off, my friend. And that brings me back to my point: the rider," he looked sharply at Murtagh. "You must speak with her. Help her to understand her situation. Help her to see…"

"You know I cannot tell her about you. Or about Shruikan. You and I are both sworn to secrecy in the Ancient—"

"No, no, I understand that," the man waved a weary hand at the Red Rider. "In time, she will learn the truth herself, as you did. I know it will take a long while for her to trust me, but we must start somewhere, mustn't we? I plan to invite her to dinner with me tomorrow. I advise you to join us—it will be valuable for me to speak to the two of you together. Just make sure she is at least the slightest bit cooperative by then. Please, Murtagh."

"Yes, of course." Murtagh studied his weary face for a long moment, before turning back to his book.

The older man stood shakily and turned to the door. "Murtagh?" He asked after a long moment.

"Yes?"

A hesitant look crossed his features. "Do you believe I am doing the right thing?"

"To what are you referring?" Murtagh asked warily.

He gestured helplessly to the entire room—himself, Murtagh, the pile of books stacked along the walls, and the dungeons below them— "Everything."

"…Yes," Murtagh said truthfully.

"And do you think it will be successful, in the end?"

The man's blue eyes were dull, his voice unimaginably tired. Although he towered over Murtagh, who remained hunched over in his desk chair, Murtagh couldn't help but think of a child looking with unsure eyes up at their parents, hoping to hear that they'd been forgiven for making a mistake. But it was too little, too late, Murtagh knew.

"No," the red rider said quietly. "I don't, Galbatorix."

* * *

A faint knocking sound woke Corliss from her dreams, and her eyes opened groggily.

"Corliss?"

The girl groaned and sat up as the knock came again, a bit louder. _Just go away, _she thought darkly as she remembered the events of yesterday.

She had done an excellent job of destroying her room, she thought as she looked around. Maybe a little _too _excellent. But it hadn't really made her feel better...in fact, she just felt childish and immature. A pang of embarrassment ran through her.

"Corliss? Are you in there?" The knock sounded again, and she recognized Murtagh's voice.

"What do you want?" she snapped.

"May I come in?"

She sighed. "I don't care."

The golden doorknob turned slowly and the red rider stepped into the destroyed room. Corliss turned away to face the wall, trying to ignore him.

Neither of them spoke for a moment. Then Murtagh gave a soft laugh. "I like what you've done with the place."

Corliss ground her teeth at the humor in his voice and turned to offer a scathing reply. Instead, the words caught in her throat as she looked at him. "Sweet Guntera, what _happened _to you?" she demanded. Murtagh's torso was covered in blood, his ribcage clumsily wrapped in bandages that were now more red than white. His clothing and hair looked badly singed, and his face looked as though it had been rammed into a stone wall.

Murtagh made a face—Corliss thought he would have shrugged if his ribs hadn't been damaged—and stepped further into the room. "I've had worse. Don't worry about me."

"I wasn't," she snapped. "I was just curious."

"That's kind of you."

"Does all _that_," she gestured to his injuries, "have anything to do with where you ran off to earlier? During the earthquake?"

"That…that wasn't an earthquake."

"I figured as much," she said, standing up stiffly. She waited for him to explain what had happened to make the floor shake like that, but he folded his arms and seemed to be waiting for her to speak. "Did the king do that to you?" she asked finally, gesturing to his injuries.

"No." Murtagh shook his head, then paused. "Well, in a roundabout way, yes."

Corliss snorted. "I thought it was supposed to be elves who spoke in riddles and nonsense, not humans."

The red rider looked around the room again, ignoring her comment. His eyes passed over the broken bed frame and ripped hangings. "You didn't sleep on the floor last night, did you?"

She grunted in response, walking to the far side of the room and kicking at a few broken pieces of glass and splintered wood as she went. Her head hurt too much to focus on his questions, and his pretenses of concern were as insulting to her as the king giving her these opulent quarters. _Why didn't he just go away? _

"You should have seen what I did the first time I was let out of my cell," Murtagh said lightly, and Corliss turned to look at him, genuinely curious despite herself.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, I didn't just destroy my quarters. I nearly burned down the entire fourth floor of the east wing. I was _livid._" Murtagh had a small smile playing on his face, and Corliss stared at him in confusion.

"I thought you…_liked_ it here," she said haltingly. "That you were…you know…on the king's side."

Murtagh scowled. "I don't know if anyone would _like_ being imprisoned against his will, being forced to commit crimes in another's name, or being told his true name…But then, things haven't been all bad, I suppose." Murtagh's eyes shifted away from her, as though he were choosing his words very carefully. "There are some…_advantages_…to working for the king."

"You mean like being beaten within an inch of your life?" Corliss said, gesturing to Murtagh's injuries. She couldn't believe he would speak that way about the king! She had never heard _anyone _speak well of the him.

But her scorn was half-hearted. At his mention of true names, she had felt her face burn, and her shoulders slumped. The humiliation, the _shame _she had felt yesterday upon hearing her own true name, every fault and facet of her personality laid bare—it was too much to endure. And now, worst of all, she was in the service of the king! How had everything gone so wrong, so quickly? He knew her true name; he could make her do anything he wanted; she had let the Varden down. Now Galbatorix had yet another dragon rider at his disposal—or at least he would, if he ever found Setta—

"Setta," Corliss whispered hoarsely. She collapsed against the wall, feeling suddenly drained. Her brain was aching as though it were suddenly too small for her head, and her body felt heavy and caged in a way she had never felt before.

"That's your dragon's name," Corliss heard the red rider's voice as though from far away. "Isn't it?"

Corliss nodded numbly. "I miss her," she whispered, her voice sounding childish in her ears. "I don't know where she is, or if she's…if she's…" Corliss choked bitterly.

"I cannot imagine your pain," Murtagh said, moving as if to put his hand on her shoulder, before thinking better of it. "To lose one's dragon, to not know of her fate. But she isn't dead. I'm certain of it."

"How…how do you know?" she said desperately.

Murtagh hesitated. "The king believes her to be alive, and—"

"Oh, well, if the _king _says she's alive then it must be true!" Corliss spat, her anger flaring back to life. "After all, when has the _king _ever been wrong about anything?"

"The _king _understands better than anyone alive what it feels like when a Rider's dragon dies," Murtagh said, looking affronted. "Don't be a fool! If he says your dragon is alive, then she's alive." He paused for a long moment, and took a step back. "Corliss, let's not fight right now. Please. Save your anger for another time." He pushed a hand through his singed hair, looking weary.

"Hmm." Corliss knew she had been rude, but she wasn't about to apologize. She turned her eyes back to her room—she really _had _done a good job of destroying it. Maybe Murtagh was right, and she had been angry for long enough.

She needed to focus on getting Setta back. That was all that mattered. She could be angry later, she could pity herself later, she could seek revenge against the king later—but first she _had to find Setta._

Suddenly she noticed Murtagh muttering under his breath. To her amazement, the torn curtains and ripped paintings had begun to sew themselves back together. With a clattering sound, the glass vases from her washroom mended themselves, magically renewed to their former shape. The tapestries strewn on the floor suddenly became whole again and hovered up to re-attach themselves to her wall.

The red rider stood rigidly, sweat beading on his brow as he weaved his spell. It occurred to Corliss again how tired he looked, and how injured he was. Why was he exerting himself like this?

"What was that for?" she demanded as her room finished putting itself back together.

"A gesture of goodwill," Murtagh offered, looking surprised at the anger on her face.

"Well, I don't need it." Corliss crossed her arms, suddenly conscious again of how short she was compared to him. "I don't want your pity or your help."

Murtagh clenched his teeth. "You do not have my pity, but you _do_ have my help, whether you want it or not. We're in this together now, don't you understand?"

_We're in this together…_Corliss hadn't thought of it that way before. But how could they work together when he seemed to be on Galbatorix's side?

"You must be hungry," Murtagh said finally. "A servant should be sent up soon with breakfast."

Corliss blinked. She couldn't remember the last time she'd eaten—it must have been before Bullridge, back when Setta had still been with her. That thought only depressed her further. "Thank you," she said listlessly.

"And one more thing—" the red rider walked to her door, turning back darkly. "The king has invited you to dine with him, tonight. I will escort you at sundown."

Without another word he departed, leaving Corliss alone.

* * *

I'll try to update again soon! Please let me know what you think.


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